


Relatives & Family

by flakedice



Series: Green Hills [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo needs a hug, F/M, Hobbiton, Hobbits Are Gossips, Homophobia, Life in the Shire, Lobelia up to no good, The Hobbit Big Bang 2017, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flakedice/pseuds/flakedice
Summary: Lobelia is seeking to ruin what remains of Bilbo's reputation in the Shire. Torn by grief and guilt, Bilbo is doing little to stop her. But not everyone is willing to let Bilbo fade.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Hobbit Story Big Bang 2017. Won't make much sense unless you read Parchment & Mithril first.

"Gerontius!" Lobelia gave the Thain one of her sweetest smiles. "It's so good of you to invite me to tea."  
  
Gerontius' white eyebrows rose slightly at her words but he stepped back to let her inside. "As Thain, my door is open to all, Lobelia."  
  
Lobelia shut her parasol with a sharp snap, face averted to hide any expression of irritation. Gerontius was a stubborn old coot. When she glanced up again, her smile was back in place. "For which the citizens of Hobbiton are very grateful."  
  
Adamanta, Gerontius' wife was waiting in the corridor behind her husband. "Lobelia." Her voice held a note of annoyance below the welcome. Lobelia had heard the exact same tone in Bilbo's voice. "How kind of you to visit."   
  
Lobelia's hackles rose. She smiled extra sweetly. "I have business with your husband, the Thain."  
  
Adamanta's eyes narrowed slightly but her smile remained fixed, as warm as Lobelia's. "Of course. Important matters, I'm sure." The tone of her voice suggested she thought they were anything but.  
  
Tooks. Conniving, dishonest snipes the lot of them. It explained a lot about Bilbo.   
  
"Very much so." Lobelia folded her parasol and handed it to Adamanta with a smile.  
  
For a moment it looked like she would refuse but good manners prevailed. Adamanta took Lobelia's parasol with a tight smile. "I'm sure Gerontius will set you straight."  
  
Lobelia resisted the urge to snarl, her smile becoming wooden.  
  
Gerontius, showing the wisdom for which he was known, quickly directed Lobelia towards the dining room. A pot of tea was waiting along with a tray of baked goods.   
  
"Well, now, Lobelia," Gerontius started once tea, scones and slices of Adamanta's suspiciously delicious tea cake had been served. "What important matter requires such a hasty meeting?"   
  
"I'm concerned for dear cousin Bilbo." Lobelia spread jam on her scone, watching Gerontius from the corner of her eye. "His health is failing. And I suspect his mind is following."  
  
Gerontius set his cup back on his saucer. "Lobelia.” The old hobbit sounded tired. “It may be true that Bilbo has been quieter since he returned. But the lad had been travelling for more than a year. He might be acting a little odd, but he'll settle down."  
  
"Like he did last night?" Lobelia raised an eyebrow. "Gorbo Sandyman found him wandering around in the dark of night with a sword."  
  
Gorbo wasn't the most talkative of hobbits, but his sister, Tansy, was. Word of Gorbo's encounter with Bilbo hadn't taken long to reach Lobelia's ears. And she had made certain word had spread quickly through the rest of the Shire.   
  
Gerontius frowned. "Yes." He regarded Lobelia over the rim of his cup. "Word spread surprisingly quickly this morning."  
  
Lobelia raised her chin. "It's a matter of great concern in the Shire. If Bilbo goes wandering around in the depths of night with a weapon, who knows what he'll do?" She recalled the letters she had seen on Bilbo's desk. "He isn't right in the head, Gerontius." Her voice grew sharp. "He's a danger to the Shire."  
  
Gerontius was quiet for a long moment, taking great care to slowly carve a bite of cake from his slice. "Bilbo was gone for a long time. A journey like that can change a Hobbit."  
  
"Yes, he's changed." Lobelia jumped on his words. In her opinion Bilbo had always been a danger to the Shire in one way or another. It would have been better if he'd never returned. "And not for the better."  
  
Gerontius gave her a sharp look. "I heard you went to visit Bilbo yesterday."  
  
Lobelia took a sip from her cup, trying to hide her suddenly shaking fingers. "I did."  
  
The Thain's eyes narrowed as they dipped down to take in the tea cup clasped in her hands. "And?" He was watching her face closely.  
  
Lobelia knew she had to tread very carefully. And just maybe she could use the situation to her advantage. "Gorbo wasn't exaggerating when he said Bilbo was walking around with a sword."  
  
Gerontius' forehead creased. "You saw it."  
  
“It was hard not to," Lobelia retorted sharply, recalling the nerve of Bilbo to threaten her. "He had it in his hand."  
  
With a sense of satisfaction, Lobelia watched Gerontius’ frown deepen.   
  
The Thain laid aside his fork, giving Lobelia his full attention. "And why would Bilbo have a sword in hand during your visit, Lobelia?" There was a world of disapproval in his voice.  
  
Disapproval Lobelia intended to focus on Bilbo.  
  
"I was simply looking at some of his scribbles." She grimaced in disgust, unable to help herself. "The next thing I knew, he was threatening me in his own house." She shuddered for effect. "Imagine what people would think if they knew the Baggins of Bag End was threatening his guests with violence?"   
  
Indeed, what _would_ they think?  
  
Gerontius wore a look of deep concern. He nodded slowly to himself. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lobelia." The words had an absent tone, the Thain clearly troubled by Lobelia’s news.  
  
Lobelia hastily hid the flash of triumph that filled her at his words. "Well, anything for the well-being of the Shire. As a Baggins, it's only right that I see the reputation of the Family is maintained." She peered at him demurely from under her lashes.  
  
"Indeed." The suddenly assessing gaze the Thain fixed on her suggested that he didn't quite agree. "I'll visit Bilbo tomorrow."  
  
Lobelia resisted a frown. She hadn't intended for Gerontius to visit himself. Bilbo had an annoying cleverness and a way with words. No doubt Gerontius would let Bilbo try and talk him into thinking he was harmless.   
  
But the Thain _was_ genuinely disturbed by what she had told him. Particularly the mention of Bilbo’s sword. He was taking her seriously. And after seeing Bilbo for himself, Gerontius couldn't deny that he needed help. That Bilbo might be better off with Primula rather than rattling around Bad End by himself.  
  
"Well." The Thain looked a little cheerier, though some of his worry lingered in the lines of his mouth. Even so, there was a hint of warning in his voice. "Leave it to me, Lobelia. No doubt this will get sorted out."  
  
"No doubt." She smiled into her cup. If nothing else, she could ensure that the rest of the Shire knew the Thain was concerned by Bilbo's behaviour as well.   
  
Even the Thain was known to cave to public opinion when the outrage was great enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Bag End had seen better days. Gerontius took in the wilting flowers beneath the windows and the stray weeds that had sprung up unnoticed near the bench. There were scratches on the door in front of him and some sort of rough symbol had been carved deep into the paint. It had been there when Bilbo left and he hadn't bothered to remove it when he returned.  
  
It was alarming considering the fuss Bilbo had made when the door had been repainted just over a year ago.  
  
Lobelia was right in that sense. Bilbo had changed.   
  
Suppressing a sigh, Gerontius reached out and pulled the bell chain hanging beside the door. A pleasant chiming sound rang out. Gerontius waited, listening intently.  
  
There was a distant thud. Gerontius waited, straining for the sound of approaching feet. The silence lengthened. Gerontius reached out to pull the chain again-  
  
The green door swung open. Bilbo peered out around its edge.  
  
"Bilbo!" Gerontius was caught off-balance by the abrupt appearance of his nephew. And deeply concerned when the state of him registered.  
  
Long gone was the sharp-eyed and perfectly attired gentle-Hobbit. There were few traces of the fine adventuring clothing in which he returned. Bilbo wore his short pants and shirt as if they were a strange, too large costume that he had forgotten how to wear.   
  
Bilbo himself had faded. His hair had lost its lustre, his gaze dulled by misery. Beneath his tan, his skin was sallow, almost pallid. It was clear that he had lost weight. The only hint of defiance was a small braid, strangely short in the rest of his too-long hair. And even that was fraying from the rough cord he had used to tie it.  
  
He had, Gerontius began to fear, left his grandson alone for too long.   
  
"Uncle Gerontius." Surprise had widened Bilbo's bloodshot eyes. He stepped back from behind the door, no longer holding onto it as if it were a shield.  
  
Gerontius raised an eyebrow. "No need to look so surprised. Can't an old man visit his grandson?"  
  
Something shifted in Bilbo's eyes. Some dark thought that lingered. Bilbo took another step back, pulling the door open wider.   
  
Disturbed, Gerontius decided to take that as a welcome. He scuffed his feet on the doormat and stepped inside.  
  
If the sight of Bilbo had been a shock, the hallway of Bag End was another. The hall was gutted, bare except for Belladonna's glory box and a few other items Bilbo had reclaimed.  
  
Gerontius had heard of the auction of Bilbo's belongings, but he hadn't seen it for himself. It was terrible seeing the shell of what Bag End had been. It must have been even worse for Bilbo.   
  
Bilbo padded silently down the corridor and Gerontius followed in his wake. Gerontius silently noted the large shield propped up against the wall, what looked to be a short spear leaning against a chest.   
  
Bilbo led him into the dining room which looked much more familiar, though there were still empty spaces where some of Belladonna's West Farthing plates had stood. His daughter had placed them in pride of place, so they could be viewed by her guests. It didn't look right with several of them missing. Gerontius made a note to help track them down.  
  
Gerontius sat down and watched as Bilbo retrieved a cup from one of the nearby shelves. A tea pot and half-filled cup were already on the table. Bilbo poured some tea into the new cup and placed it on the table before Gerontius.  
  
Steam rose from the cup, the heat of the liquid radiating through the ceramic. Gerontius gingerly cradled the cup in his hand, watching Bilbo closely. "I received a visit from Lobelia yesterday."  
  
Bilbo grip loosened on the teapot, setting it down with a clatter.   
  
"Lobelia." His voice was flat.  
  
Gerontius nodded, a slow considered gesture. "She said that you'd threatened her with harm."  
  
"I don't suppose Lobelia told you she was attempting to steal from me at the time." Bilbo's voice was hard, uncompromising.  
  
He glanced up at Bilbo, unsurprised to see the unrepentant expression on his grandson's face. He nodded uneasily. There had never been any love lost between Bilbo and Lobelia. But there had never been a threat of harm-  
  
Well, Gerontius considered some of Lobelia's past actions, no threat of _physical_ harm.  
  
Gerontius hummed, eyeing his tea. Avoiding Bilbo's heavy, silent stare. "She also seems to be under the impression that your health is at risk. And your soundness of mind."   
  
Bilbo's eyes flashed. "Lobelia's been under that impression for a long time. I don't see why-"  
  
"Lobelia isn't the only one to bring your behaviour to my attention." Gerontius cut in before Bilbo had the chance to work himself into a temper. "Gossip is spreading like wildfire. You're said to roam the hills at night, armed and accosting fellow hobbits. Others say you've been too long in the company of dwarves and become, like them, a hater of light." It was a terribly insult among hobbits, who thrived on sunlight and its bounty.   
  
A flash of anger darkened Bilbo's face and Gerontius hurried on before he could speak.  
  
"Word in the markets is that you've become unsociable and distinctively unHobbitish. I'm afraid it's starting to impact your standing in the Shire."   
  
Bilbo raked a hand through his hair as he paced back and forth. "Who cares if I choose to stay inside all day or take a walk at night?"  
  
"You're the Baggins of Bag End, Bilbo. As such you can see why people are starting to wonder." Gerontius said quietly.  
  
"But I am also a Took." Bilbo spoke just as quietly.  
  
Standing tall and refusing to look away, he resembled Belladonna so much it was heartbreaking. Gerontius had seen that same look on her face when she had announced she would wed Bungo Baggins. A quiet confidence backed by a will of iron that would bend for no one.  
  
There were no arguments that would make a difference.  
  
Gerontius owed it to his grandson to try, though.  
  
"Lobelia seems to think you've gone mad."   
  
Bilbo snorted. "And the rest of the Shire?" He raised an eyebrow when he caught Gerontius’ surprised look. "I have ears, grandfather. I know everyone thinks me mad for going off on an Adventure." He grimaced.  
  
"Everyone?" Gerontius asked mildly.  
  
"Everyone not a Took." Bilbo let out a sigh. "I can't blame them." A small smile curved his lips. "I thought I'd gone mad myself over those first weeks."   
  
At that moment, Bilbo looked very much like Belladonna. Gerontius gruffly cleared his throat. "Every Took is a little mad at times." He looked over Bilbo again, letting his concern show. "But there's a difference between madness and grieving."   
  
Bilbo stiffened, one hand bracing him against the table.   
  
"The sign are clear to those who know them." Gerontius said kindly. "And I saw what happened to Belladonna after Bungo died."  
  
Bilbo's expression turned stricken.  
  
Gerontius set aside his cup and stood. He approached Bilbo slowly, carefully reaching out to set a hand on his thin shoulder.  
  
Bilbo's shoulder was tense under his hand but slowly, slowly it loosened. He stared up at Gerontius with wide helpless eyes.   
  
It was breaking Gerontius' heart. "Bilbo." Gerontius pushed back a chair from the table and gently guided Bilbo into it.   
  
"He's not dead." Bilbo said hoarsely.   
  
He. Gerontius shouldn't have been surprised. The odds were he wasn't a Hobbit either, not when Bilbo had run off with a bunch of dwarves.  
  
Well, it wasn't the first time a Took had lost their heart and run off. Reginus hadn't left for sea as much as the elf that lived near it.  
  
Gerontius pulled out another chair, close to Bilbo. Bent over as he was, clasping Bilbo's shoulder was starting a back ache. He sat, patting Bilbo's knee.  
  
"Your dwarf." He encouraged.  
  
Bilbo simply nodded.   
  
Gerontius suppressed a sigh. He'd half expected to have this talk with Bilbo when he was a tween. It was no wonder that having been hit with love so late in life, Bilbo was feeling it so strongly. With the Baggins devotion and Tookish ferocity.   
  
"Did he feel the same?" Gerontius wasn't sure if it would be worse or better if he did.  
  
"Once." Bilbo sounded miserable.  
  
Worse apparently. Gerontius chose his next words carefully. "A misunderstanding then," he decided. "How often have the Tall Folk misunderstood us? Let alone how often lovers find themselves at odds?" And with Bilbo choosing a dwarf, one who had swept him out of Bag End, there were bound to be problems. Gerontius was privately surprised it had come to anything more than a short dalliance. Dwarves weren't exactly known for romance.   
  
Bilbo's eyes flickered, suddenly uncertain.   
  
It was better than misery. "Write to him Bilbo. Distance and time make tempers cool and reason rise." And if Bilbo was right about his dwarf’s change in feelings...then at least Bilbo would have an end to the matter.   
  
Perhaps in time he would be able to find someone in the Shire. It wasn't acceptable, exactly, but few would begrudge Bilbo finding companionship if he kept it circumspect.  
  
Which led Gerontius to the other problem at hand. "It would help if you turn your mind to matters in the Shire. Take an interest in your duties as master of Bag End and be seen to do so."   
  
Bilbo was listening. Not quite willingly but listening.  
  
Gerontius continued, more comfortable now they were on safer ground. "It would be wiser if you get out more often." He raised a hand to forestall any protests. "Simply to the market, or down to visit Hamfast Gamgee." Those were safe options and ones Bilbo should be able to manage even if he wasn't in the mood to socialise.  
  
Bilbo didn't look happy about it but he nodded. Sensible lad that he was, Gerontius knew he'd see reason. "It should be enough to put pause to the rumours." And set back Lobelia in her machinations.  
  
Lobelia. If she didn't rein in her harsh tongue, Gerontius might have to intervene. Or let Adamanta take care of her.  
  
Now _that_ was an idea.  
  
Bilbo was staring morosely into his cup. Gerontius patted his knee again. "Cheer up, Bilbo. I'm sure once you explain everything, your dwarf will come around."  
  
If he didn't see the treasure that was Gerontius' grandson, then he didn't deserve Bilbo in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo sank back against the door, listening to the soft scuff of Gerontius' feet along the path. The quiet squeak of the gate as the Thain finally left Bag End entirely.  
  
He knew that Lobelia had been stirring up trouble. That his actions were now strange to the Hobbits of the Shire. How could they not be, now that he had travelled the wide world beyond the Shire? Having seen what he had seen, Bilbo had changed. And there was no possibility that he could be the same.  
  
The Shire had once been all he knew. Bag End the pride of parents, his anchor once they had gone. He could sit in the armchair where his father had sat and sit on the bench he had once shared with his father each afternoon. He could harvest the herbs his mother had lovingly cultivated and add to the pages of the same ledgers she had written.  
  
The Shire had been all he had and all he needed.  
  
Until Gandalf had appeared and marked his door.  
  
Bilbo's fingers traced the glossy paint of the door at his back. It was cold to his touch.   
  
A quest to steal from a dragon. His father would have been horrified. His mother worried, but she simply would have been doubly careful in helping him pack. Bilbo smiled weakly. He wouldn't have left his handkerchief behind if Belladonna had been involved in the packing. He likely wouldn't have run out in his Sunday best either, he reflected ruefully.  
  
He hadn't the slightest idea of what he was doing when he set out. Which had been part of why it took so long for the Company to warm to him. It had taken several weeks to get used to sleeping on the ground and eating only three meals a day at best. Even longer to start feeling like he was contributing instead of being a small complaining piece of hobbit-sized baggage. It had been a stiff learning curve but after saving Thorin from Azog, Bilbo had found his place. It had been a feeling he'd never felt before. A sense of belonging beyond anything he'd experienced in the Shire.  
  
Bilbo's smile faded. But in the end, he'd made a hash of it all. What place he'd earned for himself, he'd lost. Given away when he bartered the Arkenstone for an alliance Thorin had refused to consider.  
  
To the day he died, Bilbo would remember the look of betrayal in Thorin's eyes. The pained and angry words he'd spat out. The feel of Thorin's fingers at his throat, scrabbling at his wrist to tear at the bracelet he had gifted.  
  
Bilbo slid down the door, curling up when he hit the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. He twisted the bracelet around his wrist, the stones glinting with subdued fire. One finger dipped beneath the warmed metal, tracing the skin beneath. It had been torn and bleeding as he scrambled over the wall, the stones stained. His wrist had been scabbed for weeks. There was not even a scar now but the skin was still tender, a ghostly echo that never healed.  
  
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his wrist to his forehead. The stones of the bracelet were cold against his skin.  
  
It wasn't his by right. Not anymore. Not when Thorin had made it abundantly clear that he would never tie himself to a traitor, one who had betrayed him so utterly.  
  
He had refused to speak Bilbo's name. Even after Ravenhill, when Bilbo had crossed a battlefield and run halfway up the mountain to warn him, Thorin had been unable to look at him.  
  
The bracelet was digging into the skin of his forehead. Bilbo pressed into it, the bite insignificant compared to the sharp pain stabbing through his chest.  
  
He should have left the bracelet when he stole away during the night. He had intended to but in the end, he'd been unable to take it off. It had been another theft, smuggled out under the stained bandages wrapped around his wrist like the mithril mail hidden beneath his tunic and his stolen cloak.  
  
He doubted anyone would notice the loss in the face of the riches reclaimed form Smaug.  
  
Bilbo raised his head, eyes tracing over the glittering trail of stones elegantly looped around his wrist. Diamonds for brilliance and quickness of thought. Deep blue for the House of Durin and deep abiding loyalty.  
  
Bilbo let out a pained huff of breath that sounded all too much like a whine. It was no wonder Thorin had tried to take it from him.  
  
He pressed a hand into his eyes. It had fallen apart so quickly once they'd entered the mountain. And in the end, he had been almost desperate to get away.  
  
But Gerontius was right. Bilbo may have put distance between himself and Erebor but his regrets had followed him. He may not have seen Thorin or the rest of the Company since he had left but thoughts of them lingered. They haunted him.   
  
Perhaps Gerontius was right. It was time to put his regrets behind him and accept what had happened. To say his piece and be done with it.  
  
Bilbo slowly got up, one hand on the door for support. He had laughed in the face of a dragon. He was the son of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took.   
  
Bilbo straightened with a mixture of Baggins resolve and Tookish determination. He would write a letter and be done with it. After all, Thorin was in Erebor and he was in the Shire. The worst he could expect was an angry reply or an even deeper furious silence.   
  
Bilbo padded down the hall towards his study. The scattered attempts at past letters were strewn across the floor and he gently nudged them aside with his feet.   
  
For a moment he regarded the mess of his desk. More half-finished letters covered its surface. A number of books were piled on one side. The map of the Lonely Mountain sat propped up against them. And the portrait of Thorin-  
  
Bilbo eased the parchment free from pile. He stared down at the beloved features, eyes lingering on the soft gaze, the smile that curved the usual grim cast of Thorin’s lips. Bilbo traced over the lines around Thorin's eyes, the line of the smile that softened his expression. Down the line of his braid, lingering on the beads woven into his greying locks.  
  
One bead in particular.  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes. He opened them after a deep breath and gently set down the sketch, on top of a pile of letters. Slowly he moved papers and books until he had enough space cleared to work. He pulled his chair out and slowly sat down.   
  
Bilbo reached for a fresh piece of parchment and set it on the desk before him. He drew in a fortifying breath and then picked up his quill, dipping it in the ink well.  
  
 _To Thorin Oakenshield,_  
King Under the Mountain,  
Son of Durin and  
Ruler of Erebor...


End file.
